


Here's to a fresh new start (not)

by bonecrusher (orphan_account)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, have fun reading this tho!, i think its clear that i'll never write fluff lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bonecrusher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick winds up in a hospital, for reasons that the world never should've known, but it was too late.<br/>They all knew about the old and new scars, littering his soft pale skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I made a mistake

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't really much to say about this, but obviously fair warning that if you easily get triggered by this content, then I suggest you leave.

White walls, white bed; colourless, with a window that was covered by dull, but seemingly new grey blinds.

That seemed to be the world these days, bleak and grey; no hope for anyone because fuck it, what do you have to lose?

But there was no white door, since that had seemed to be the theme, instead the door had to be wooden, and also.. shut so he couldn't peer out into the hallway.

That was a little disappointing.

The room was overall unsettling in Patrick's case, due to his left was a tray full of medical objects that put him off.

It almost quiet, he didn't hear any voices outside of his room, just pitter patter of the rain outside and the quick beeping sounds of a heart monitor, tracking every beat as it began to race due to Patrick's increasing anxiety.

Why the hell was he in the hospital? He just couldn't remember for the life of him.

Hell, Patrick was wracking up his brain for _anything_ but his mind kept going blank, only because it seemed foggy to him, and being drowsy didn't help either. 

Which came to the question, did he get drugged? Could that be why he couldn't remember what happened to him, or maybe a head wound? Or even hopped up on something that the doctor- whoever it was gave him.

Thinking about that made the beeping quicker, this was scaring him and caused him to be on the verge of a panic attack.

What the fuck happened-

Oh.

An I.V dug into his wrist, which he hadn't taken notice until now since he was focused on trying to figure out what happened, and both wrists were bandaged pretty thickly, he noted; but that explained everything. 

_Oh_ no, oh god. Patrick fucked up big time now.

His old scars were showing too, and very visibly as well as they were scattered on his arms considering the hospital gown's sleeves were shoulder length. 

Fuck, fuck _fuck_

That meant everyone saw what he's done to himself, the self inflicted wounds that he deserved, that Patrick craved because it was the second thing that made him feel alive, the first being music.

Self destruction kept him mostly grounded, and knew the risks but.. he must've taken it too far.

Actually, Patrick did take it too far, It all came back to him now, the screaming.. the sirens of an ambulance blasting in his ears, unfamiliar faces surrounding him like a dog- wait no, that was a lie, of course they were familiar; they were his band mates.

That made the tight feeling in his chest explode and he stopped breathing, as much as he tried but his throat felt like it was closing up, which made the monitor go off.

Then came the tears rolling down his cheeks because everyone knew now that he tried to kill himself, tried to get rid of his useless existence from the world; and he didn't want them to know in the first place.

So his band mates were going to have a long talk about it, Patrick could feel it, even though there wouldn't be much to talk about, yeah he tried to end his life, and..?

Nothing, end of discussion. 

But Patrick figured that they would more than likely make him spill what made him so desperate for escape, and _why_ , because it wasn't like him and yadda yadda, the bullshit he never told anyone for who knows how long. 

He couldn't do this, not now, he should've fucking died, they should've left him!

Before Patrick knew it, someone in a white coat opened the door and walked in, assuming it was his doctor that had received notification about what was happening with the monitor, and behind him was Pete, who then rushed past over to his side.

“Trick, it's going to be okay, you're going to get help.” He cupped Patrick's cheeks so he could look into his eyes, “Just try to breathe deeply, I'm right here and I'm not leaving.”

“B-But--” He started then did what he was told and really did try to breathe deeply, even if his breathing, or lack of was shaky.

The doctor just stood and watched, and let Patrick calm down first before saying anything because triggering more of his anxiety wouldn't be the best for him, obviously. 

Patrick caught his breath soon enough so the beeping was back to normal and Pete laid in the hospital bed with him, trying his best to keep him as calm as he can and mumbled, “Everything is going to be okay.. we want to help you.”

The doctor cleared his throat so the both of them would have their attention towards him, and so Pete sat up and looked at him, silently telling the doctor that he could speak.

“Hello Mr. Stump, as to what your friend here said, we are here to help you, you lost a fair amount of blood but we were able to keep you stable, and with that you'll be staying here over night for observation just in case.”

Patrick just nodded, then looked down at the bed sheets, there was a sudden pang of guilt that washed over him; “In case..?”  
“You try again, Mr. Stump, have you had any previous depression episodes like this?” The doctor asked.

“N-Not like this, no. It's been one cycle the entire time.”

Why the fuck did he blurt that out like that, Pete didn't even know and once he heard that he looked devastated.

Now Pete was the one to speak, “Patrick.. why? Why didn't you say anything?” 

He just kept staring down at the sheets, there was nothing to say, he played around with the sheets, wrapping a bit of it around his finger, avoiding the question.

“I think its the best if you leave for now, there's things we need to discuss in private, if you may.” The doctor gestured to the door for Pete to leave, and he did so, closing the door behind him and waiting in the waiting room as he was before.

Fuck.

Now Patrick was screwed for good, he could see it now, being locked up in the psych ward for who knows how long, the.. headlines and articles about how much of a fucking nut job he was and everybody, his friends, family, even the band's fans would be disappointed by the way his life took a horrible turn and how he seemed so.. happy go lucky most of the time, but it was all a mask.

But also how haunted his head was, everyone would be absolutely afraid too.

_”Did you miss me?”_

_”We're going to have soooooo much fun, but too bad you didn't bleed out and die like you were supposed to.”_

_”You fucked up yet again, but next time we'll make sure that you wont.”_

It was too late


	2. Wounds may be mended, but scars will last forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay, i apologize greatly for the inactiveness for the past month, school just started for me and so i've had lots of homework already, and plus my mental health hasn't been the greatest as well and so some things happened, but hopefully i'll get back into writing soon, and,, this is mostly a filler chapter i guess? more things will be happening in the next chapters, i promise

“Do you remember what happened, Mr. Stump?”

Of course he remembered, he remembered everything; actually that was a lie, the only thing Patrick didn't remember was _what_ set him off the way it did.

“Yeah uhm.. I don't remember why it happened but I was angry and upset and I.. wanted to die so I grabbed my razor and cut until I couldn't feel anything anymore, then Pete, Andy and Joe barged in after.. they were screaming and panicking and trying to keep me awake and they called an ambulance, then I passed out and woke up here.” 

Patrick noticed the doctor wrote down what he just said in his notebook, possibly for observation? He wasn't sure. 

“I know this may be personal but this is all confidential, how long have you been self harming for? Only because it looks like you've had a history of it and I need to know.” 

_”Don't you dare say it”_

Patrick tried to not speak to the voices in his head, but he had to think about that for a moment, he wasn't too sure about that either, maybe a year or two? It's been too long since he started to cut.

The first time felt fucking magical to him as if it were a whole new world for him to explore, it calmed him down; just one, he told himself, but it had turned into an addiction like alcoholism or drug abuse and so this had to happen since it was bound to.

“A year I think.”

“So it's been on-going since then, yes?”

“Y-yeah, I.. guess I never really did stop.” 

_”Stupid stupid stupid!”_

Patrick jumped a little, and his eyebrows furrowed when he heard that.

“Is there something wrong?” The doctor asked, tapping the pen on the notebook gently and had a curious but reassured expression on his face.

Well... yes there were many things wrong, Patrick wanted to say but kept his mouth shut and just shook his head in response. 

“I'm.. fine, well not fine but you probably know what I mean.” Wow, if only that could've gotten worse he would be hitting himself in the head by now for being so stupid. 

“Of course, but now I'm going to have to ask a few more questions, is that okay?”

Patrick simply nodded and said a quiet, “Yes.” 

~

After a series of questions, so a “few” were lies but Patrick didn't really seem to pay mind, he was asked if he ever had any violent thoughts or urges, or if he has attempted before, they were all yes or no answers, well mostly no's. 

That was until his doctor asked if he's had any hallucinations, which took him off guard entirely for some reason. 

But then Patrick decided to play dumb, as if not knowing that could happen with his.. situation, the “better” he becomes, the less time he'll have to stay in the hospital.

Perfect. 

When that was over, the doctor told him that he'd be back soon for check ups and then left him alone for a few minutes, unsure if Pete would come back or his other band mates would see him.

So he just waited and while doing so, the voices acted up again. 

It seemed like they tortured him more when he was alone, most of the time so Patrick wasn't sure if it was a blessing or not because it was still horrible for him but only he had to deal with it and not get weird looks whenever he would act strange because of the voices.

Just like what happened earlier while the doctor was asking him questions.

 _”After you get out, jump off a bridge, It'd be doing everyone a favour and you know it.”_

Patrick shut his eyes and whispered, “No.. no I'm not.” 

But he knew that he would try again, whether it be jumping, or bleeding out, or over dosing, or he could try hanging, there's no doubt about it that he'd try again.

 _”How about you do a mix of those? We're sure it would be fun for you, a new experience.”_

He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, as if that was going to do anything good even though he knew it wouldn't. 

It was the thought that counts.

Patrick opened his eyes and saw Pete, Andy and Joe walking towards his room, so he was right and the conversation was going to be _fun_.

He noticed that they all had glum expressions written across their faces, obviously not being bothered to hide their sadness, anger, grief, worry; which is what he should've expected but didn't. 

_”That's because you only care about yourself you attention seeking whore, It's all about you just cause you're a 'star' but they will be so much happier once you're gone”_

Okay, that hurt but Patrick had to listen and keep quiet. 

It was also probably true, but no one outside his mind would actually say it due to his mental state of course. 

Once they reached the room, the three of them grabbed a seat- anywhere really because they were going to be in there for a while, Pete even closed the door, so it was going to be serious.

“We.. thought we lost you, Patrick.” Andy was the first to speak out of the three, “You know you can tell us anything, you shouldn't have felt like you had to keep it in like that, we could've helped you through this.” 

_Bullshit._

How could they help? They really didn't know what he was going through, maybe 10 percent of it because there was so much more than what they've seen considering it was an on going battle in his mind for so long. 

A battle that Patrick was losing in. 

“You know.. I was in your situation, well a little differently but.. Trick please.” Pete started, “You've helped me through so much and so I- we should.. be able to do the same” Then began to tear up, which made Patrick feel guilty.

“I'm your best friend, we're supposed to be there for eachother, but you just.. you want to help everybody but yourself.” Pete continued 

He wasn't too sure as to what to say because well.. Pete didn't know what the fuck he was talking about.

“Patrick.” Joe began, “I couldn't bear to live without you, nothing would be the same so please remember that, we love you.” 

“I know, I love you too.” Is all Patrick had to say, even though he didn't believe anything that they were saying. 

Then right after, the doctor opened the door and walked in, then closed behind him, “Oh, just in time, there's something I must speak to you all about.”

The four just looked at him.

“Well..?” Pete asked, becoming noticeably anxious due to his arrival. 

“I believe the best will be to have Mr. Stump in the psychiatric ward for a couple of days.” 

No.

No, no he couldn't, he would do _anything_ but that.


	3. Scratches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Again I apologize for the lack of posting anything these past two months, being a senior in highschool sucks lmao.

For some god forsaken reason, Patrick ended up getting convinced to stay in the ward- just for a couple of days and that was it.

He stayed in the hospital bed over night for observation.

The nurses had checked his vitals for a while to be sure he was ready to be let go into the ward in the morning.

Patrick had to clean his wounds frequently, only because the doctors would check.

But that meant he could have time on his own to plan out his death because not doing so lead to consequences; like the last time.

Pete was by his side, walking with Patrick to his room that he'd be staying in for the course of those few days, the hallway seemed to last forever, but in reality it really didn't; It was quiet, all he could hear is their footsteps and that was it, and Patrick glanced at the closed doors, he wondered what the other patients were like, but he was going to find out soon enough.

But still, Patrick didn't like it there one bit, he felt trapped inside a cage and was about to snap any second, even though he wasn't in any danger, necessarily.

Besides, he was here to get “help.” 

“I promise I'll come and see you whenever I can.” Pete piped up, which made him jump after the longing silence that made the atmosphere seem tense. 

Patrick looked over at Pete and nodded, murmuring a “Thanks, I appreciate it.” to him, and Pete noticed he wasn't acting like himself, but could he really blame him after what happened? Of course not. 

They came across an empty room, assuming it was his and Pete just smiled gently at him as they walked into the bland room, just like the bland hospital. 

There was a plain white bed in the corner of the room, the blankets were tidy and tucked into it, a not so polished bed-side table beside the bed, and it seemed a little chilly, but Patrick paid no mind; he could deal with a little cold. 

The two walked in and didn't bother to close the door and sat on the bed together, Pete just hugged him for a little while.

“You know I'm gonna miss you, even though It's for a few days.” 

“I know Pete, I know but.. It's for my own good and I.. wanna get better.”

 _”Lying are we now, Patrick?”_

“Look me in the eye and say that, I-I want you to promise me that you'll get better”

Oh, it was as if Pete could read his mind.

Then he nuzzled his face against Pete's chest, somewhat avoiding saying it but also just for the hell of it, it was.. nice.

“..Patrick.”

He rolled his eyes then moved back and looked at him.

“I promise I'll get better, not just for me, but for you- the band, and.. everyone.”

After, Pete looked relieved and of course believed him, Patrick's lying skills were developing well, it seemed; A few quiet moments went by as Patrick stayed in his arms, but of course Pete had the guts to say:

“I miss the old you.”

What old him?

His real personality that had manifested from being depressed so long? The one that he kept hidden, the _supposedly_ happy guy filled with rainbows?

Patrick didn't even remember what his old self was like anymore.

Or maybe he was always that way without even realizing it, considering the fact that he was always so shy and insecure in the first place.

He looked down at his bandaged arms as the screams echoed in his head:

_Patrick! Stay with us! Don't do this..!_

Then looked back at Pete and mumbled, “Maybe the 'old me' will come back.. I dunno.”

“I hope so.”

_Oh my god! Call 911, he's..._

A young nurse knocked on the door, addressing that she was present, which snapped Patrick back into reality once again. 

“Visiting time is over now.” 

Pete frowned and gave Patrick a bear hug because he didn't want to leave him, he stayed at the hospital for almost three days now, living off of the shitty hospital food and coffee, while Andy and Joe left but asked him if he could give them updates, in which he did through text messages every so often. 

Then the nurse gave a nod and walked away, going off to do other duties. 

“Be good, please.” Pete almost.. pleaded, well that's what it sounded like to Patrick as he let go of the hug and stood up.

God, he felt like he was being treated like a lost puppy or something, it was aggravating Patrick a lot actually, but of course he didn't show it.

Patrick just sighed and stood up with him, mumbling, “Yeah, I will, why wouldn't I?” 

Then Pete kissed his forehead before leaving.

That was new.

~

Patrick had met a few other patients after Pete left and they seemed.. really nice to him, just as if they weren't in the ward.

But that forehead kiss hung him up the most.

It probably didn't mean anything, right? There was no way that the infamous Pete Wentz loved him, but he tried to figure out what it mean, for all he cared it was something friendly, but his heart said otherwise. 

_”You're a fool, Patrick, a fucking fool. How could anyone love you?_

It was now the first night at the stay, Patrick was sitting on his bed quietly, the staff gave him a notebook to write his thoughts and feelings in. One of the good coping skills he was going to learn.

_”You know Pete will be dancing on your grave when you're gone.”_

Oh, Patrick wrote those exact words into the notebook without even realizing it, his heart began to feel heavy because of the voices, and now, he was crying

 _”It'll all be over soon.”_

But he couldn't stop the tears, they just kept rolling and dripping down his chin and onto his hands. He felt so weak, so pathetic for crying now.

He began to sob as his whole body shook. At least no one would be awake to hear him.

Patrick wasn't sure what had gotten over him, he barely cried and now.. here he was, sobbing disgustingly in his bed.

He wasn't sure if he _really_ wanted to die anymore, the voices in his head encouraged it.

The blond just dropped the notebook beside him and looked down at it, ashamed of what he wrote in it; 

“Just die you stupid piece of shit! Die die die die! Don't you see all the pain you're causing everyone? You should've died when you had the chance, maybe you should've jumped off a bridge instead of slitting your wrists.  
You're better off dead and you know it.”

Patrick wanted them to stop again, so he leaned back and began to hit the back of his head against the wall, harder each time.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” 

It was giving him a headache but he didn't care, he'd be thankful if it gave him brain damage or something like it.

Soon his crying quieted down so all was heard was sniffling

_”Make yourself bleed again, you know you want to.”_

Patrick stopped hitting his head and looked down at his bandaged arms for a moment, he knew it was a bad idea and yet..

 _”Just do it, let yourself bleed out again”_

That's what he was going to do.

He carefully unravelled the bandages and stared at the new cuts, the swelling had gone down so all there were dark red lines on his used-to-be clean wrists.

Patrick was going to regret this, but what else did he have to lose?

His dignity? Gone.

Self esteem? Please, if only he had any in the first place.

Moments later, he began to dig his nails into them and even though it stung like a bitch, he kept doing so, and scratching them as well until he saw blood well up and smear from his finger tips. But Patrick didn't want to stop.

Blood began to drip down onto the bed and seeing that made him want to do more harm, he wanted to see the blood. 

Well, he didn't think this through at all.

Patrick was in too much of a trance to realize what exactly he was doing to himself, but the voices in his head seemed to quiet down.

What kind of monster was he manifesting into?


End file.
